You Have to be Kidding Me
by C G Chess
Summary: Two modern band girls end up in Thedas. One's played the game-the other hasn't. Not a really serious story; just written for fun. Written in two alternating perspectives. Possible OCx cannon pairings, maybe.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is actually a collaboration between H E Vaughn and myself. This first chapter has a little of mine, a little of hers. Future chapters might just be me, though. Enjoy.**

**1**

**Grace**

"I hate bus rides," I groan, propping up my knees on the seat in front of me. "You'd think with everything that's being invented these days that they would've come up with something… better!" My best friend chuckles beside me, sticking her hands in her jacket pouch.

"Well, Grace, I guess they just haven't gotten around to it yet," she replies, her tone light like air, "maybe if you had your license, you wouldn't have to ride the bus so often…" I rolled my eyes.

"And how, exactly, would that help me on a trip? Like this one, for instance?"

"Maybe not on this trip, but over all you could just drive yourself where you like—within reason, of course." She pauses as she stares out the front window of the bus. "Now that I think about it, there_ are_ better alternatives; we are just too cheap to take advantage of them… You know, Grace, maybe this is the perfect time to expand the limits of your imagination. I used to daydream on the bus when I was in middle school."

As she speaks the rickety bus kicks us both into the air, causing my stomach to protest.

"Ugh, I think I am going to be sick…" I began banging my head on the seat, trying to think of something, but I wasn't sure what.

"Well, that sure isn't going to help," Noelle replies blatantly, raising an eyebrow at me. "…I don't understand—what are you doing?"

I paused, my forehead against the seat. "…I don't remember!" I exclaim, my dark curly hair flying as I swiftly righted my posture. I grin at her as if I hadn't been doing something stupid just moments before. She stared at me incredulously before laughing and shaking her head.

"Okay, Grace…"

Silent seconds soared by with the scenery outside the bus window and cars racing beside the bus in matching speeds. We passed an exit when our director made the announcement; we were but ten minutes from the university.

"Jackets and shakos," he listed off to us over the filmy intercom. "When we get there grab your instruments out of the back of the trailer and report to the warm-up field."

An excitement reverberated through the musicians and a flood of whispering accompanied the sounds of jacket zippers and box latches. I smiled, while raising my hand.

"Mr. Jackson," I called out, "I don't have my shako…" He didn't even flinch, merely shaking his head and placing a large hand on my shoulder.

"It seems you do that every time we perform, Miss Holland," he chuckled. "Just make sure you have your jacket and mallets, okay?" I nodded and began to say something else when he interrupts, "And, no, we aren't singing this rep, either."

I laughed again, turning to grab my jacket from the hanger on the window.

"Must you ask that every time we perform?" Noelle asks, while zipping her jacket up.

I shrugged. "It's funnier when people believe I am serious."

"Front Ensemble!" Noelle yells out, standing up and turning to the back of the bus, "When you get off come find Mark or me to check your equipment. If your cymbals or mics are not on your boards, they are in the assembly box!" her voice cranes over the chatter of the band, gaining the attention of the percussionists.

Within the next few minutes, the bus pulled up in a parking lot filled to the brim with adorned with eighteen-wheelers and the distant sound of at least a dozen different bands playing from every direction. It took a moment for me to get off the bus, with everyone pushing and shoving, but soon the front ensemble had gathered themselves around the trucks and began unloading.

Three marimbas, two vibes, the rack, a bell kit, bass guitar, synth, electric guitar, and drum set; each with its corresponding pit member setting up their accessories and uncoiling their cords.

"How many bands are we going to see before we perform?" one of the two kids on rack, a tall lanky male, asked.

"About five or so," Noelle replied, "so just leave your drumsticks here, okay?"

The boy frowned, hugging the sticks close to his chest. "But I don't wanna," he pouted. Another male, also tall though slightly more muscled, turned to him with an un-amused frown.

"Just leave them here, Alex," he said as he attached a cymbal to his marimba.

"Fine…" he finally submitted. With that, Mark finished setting up his marimba and walked over to Noelle's set-up.

"Do you have everything taken care of?" he asked her, leaning over her board as she set up the microphones underneath.

"I think so," she says, her attention adverted slightly by the usual game of untangling wires. "Ask around and make sure everyone else has what they need."

He gives her a nod and goes down the line checking each player's equipment and asking them if they had everything they needed for the show. Slowly, he made his way to me.

"Chords?"

"Check," I answer.

"Keys?"

"Check."

"Mallets?"

I dip my hands into my mallet bag and grip the four corresponding shafts, hoping to miraculously pull out my mallets, but, as I held the mallets out in front of my face two were splintered by the shaft.

Mark's eyes widen in surprise as he breaks into a small sweat. "Do you have any extras?" he croaks out.

Urgency had taken hold of my breath, but my silence answered the question well enough. He took off down the line straight towards Hope. Immediately as he reaches her, she begins searching her marimba, checking all her bags but a moment of unproductive stammer proved futile. Noelle's shoulders straightened and a new aura of fear perforates from her. She strutted her way back to me.

"I think Macy has extras back on the bus," she tried to assure me, her own blue-grey eyes reeling with excitement. I nodded, my hands shaking.

"I'll go check," I replied, pulling the broken sticks out of the bag. I turned from my marimba, running back towards the bus. I had searched frantically in every seat before I realized I was on the wrong bus. I cursed myself, and then ran back out to the next bus, this time checking the number before I went in.

It never takes too long to find Macy's bag—it was hopelessly adorned with lace and pink sparkles. I open it and immediately find a plethora of multi-colored yarn mallets.

"My Lord, what does she do? Hoard them?" I ask myself as I snatch up a pair of William Morsch's. I stuff an extra set inside my uniform jacket and set off the bus.

By the time I had emerged the band was gone. Even the pit had disappeared from the lot.

"Grace!" Noelle's voice chimes out to me. I turn to see her leaning against her marimba. "Come on, the band has already gone. We have to hurry."

Before I could get a word out, we were gliding down the streets of the university. As she wiped around corners I began to wonder how it was she knew where she was going. Eventually, she led us straight to an entry way that was blocked off with yellow tape.

"I don't understand," she notes as I manage to finally catch up with her. "This is the way we went last year."

"Do you think-" but she wasn't listening; she had already started jogging off in a new direction.

"I think I know a shortcut," she calls back to me, waving her arm as if it would make me move faster.

"Noelle!" I yell out, but she was already gone around the corner. I groan and pick up my pace to trail her, but she moved so quickly I could barely keep up. Finally, after several pain-staking minutes of playing catch-up, she leads me to a tall building with a round roof and metallic plating.

"Do you know where you are going?" I finally ask her as she stops to look at a map diagramed on the outside window of the doors.

"We take the elevator to the second floor, go through the doors toward the dining hall and it will lead us straight to the stadium," she pseudo-reads from the translucent map.

"And the university won't mind us cutting through the laboratory? We are in uniform, for goodness sake; don't you think someone will notice?"

"Trust me, I know what I am doing," she pardons me with her usual confident ring, passing through the glass doors.

For fear of being noticed I said no more and just followed, once again, behind her. She promptly struts us past the front desk (which was thankfully unattended) straight to the elevator.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Noelle," I whispered, standing beside her in the elevator. She shook her head.

"Relax, okay?" she replied, pushing the second button as the doors closed. "I told you, I know what I am doing." I nodded, trying to find comfort in her words but still unable to shake the ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Suddenly, the elevator halted, making us stumble, though we remained standing.

"What was that?" I asked, latching onto the handlebar on the back wall.

Noelle shrugged. "It's an old school, with an old elevator," she reasoned, though it did nothing for my nerves. The elevator then lurched downward, this time knocking us both off our feet. I bit my lip, preferring tasting my own blood to screaming as we fell.

For only a matter of seconds we felt ourselves flying uncontrollably down the elevator's shaft. The lights overhead broke into a flurry of electric-bolt like flickering and a harsh scraping sound accompanied the elevator in its crashing escapade. Finally, a last stagger shook us and we both hit the floor. Noelle lands on her side and shelters her head with her arms as I land still gripping onto the metal railing that lined the machine. The lights flickered off and I strained my eyes to see around the compartment.

"Noelle, are you okay?" I croak after my eyes adjusted. She was curled up into a dark ball, nervously rocking herself back and forth.

"I'm fine. I just hit my head," she finally spoke; her voice lined with more agony than what she would usually let on. Slowly, she craned herself up and sat up, holding her forehead in her palms.

"You're bleeding," my eyes widened as I noticed the crimson droplets streaming in between her fingers.

"I'm okay," she replied, a slightly distant sound ruminating in her voice. She tried to stand, using the railing to support her as she started to sway.

"Noelle-"

"There is a door at the top. I'll give you a boost and you climb up. We will have to scale the shaft."

"You have a concussion."

"And we have larger problems at hand. Come on; we will get out of here first and then we will worry about getting bandaged up."

The dutiful look in her eyes demonstrated just how much I didn't have a choice. Swallowing my grievances, I nod in agitated agreement. Still leaning against the side of the shaft, she hoists me up taking my left foot into her hands. As I jump up, I grab hold of the latch and undo the emergency exit, slapping it open with my palm. The metal trap door clangs open with a bang as Noelle hoists me up onto her shoulders allowing me to get out up to my waist.

"Can you climb out?" I heard her call out from beneath me, her voice wavering in struggle.

"I'm not high enough."

A grunt signified as she grabs hold of my ankles and works to lift me up even higher. I slump over the side of the hatch and wormed my way out.

"Okay, now I am going to need you to pull me out," her voice reverberated off the metal. I hummed in reply and reached back into the open light to take hold of her open palms. I had to suppress a squeal as I felt warm, slick moisture on her hands, but instead I put all my effort into my upper body as I tried to lift her out.

My muscles strained and I grunted as I pulled, suddenly wishing I had invested in some weight training. "I can't do it," I huff as I was only able to lift her about a foot in the air.

"Come on; dig in!" she grits her teeth. I heard her feet scuffling along the side of the elevator as she tried to gain a hold and boost herself out. In a final effort, I exert my whole body and she breaks free from the elevator.

We were both breathing heavy breaths, blood now cascading down her face and dripping from her neck onto the jacket of her uniform.

"Noelle…"

"We need to scale the side of the shaft," she interrupted in hasty breaths.

"Noelle, you aren't climbing anything—not like that. I don't even think I can handle anything else with my arms hurting so badly."

"It would take hours for anyone to find us. Let's just do what we can," she looked at me through the dark and held out her hand. "We are too close to give up now."

"You don't really think you can climb a wall with a concussion, do you?"

"I can try," she reasoned, but I give her a look that makes her think twice.

She began to shuffle for something in the pocket of her uniform. "Here, we can use this," she announced as she pulls out a bundle of dark string.

"Marimba string?"

"You can tie it around your waist. That way if I fall you can suspend me until I can get a footing."

"And if I lose my grip and we both fall? Why don't I just climb up and go get help?"

"What if the elevator starts moving again? Look, I just want to get out of here as soon as possible. If you don't think you can do it then I'll go up first and then hoist you from there."

"You aren't going to do that."

"You're with me or you aren't."

With a sigh, I gave up and fastened the string around my waist. She secured it with a knot; rounding it once around my hips and a second time underneath my chest. Once I was secured, she tied the same holster around herself.

"This is single-handedly the stupidest thing either of us has ever done," I mumble, grabbing onto the ladder on the wall.

"Just climb up to the next floor," Noelle replied, wiping the blood from her hands onto the back of her uniform to take hold of the ladder as well, "we can try to find our way out from there." I nodded, beginning to pull our way up to the next floor. It wasn't far, thankfully, and soon I had reached the top of the ladder, only to face a new problem.

"The doors are closed," I called down, "How're we supposed to get in?"

"Just try to open them," Noelle yelled up to me, somehow managing to keep the blood out of her eyes.

"Alright..." I pushed myself up a little, wrapping my legs as best I could around the side of the ladder. I then reached up, leaning slightly to grab onto one side of the door; taking a deep breath, I began to push.

The doors were old, and got stuck for a moment, but they opened gradually, creaking as I pushed them as far as I could reach.

"Alright, Noelle, let's go!" I untangled myself from the ladder, and began pulling myself onto the ledge above me; suddenly, a whirring, mechanical sound filled the shaft.

"What is that?" Noelle asked, still climbing the ladder. I pulled myself up entirely, then glanced back down at the bottom; the elevator appeared to be lighting up, and from the looks of it, it was getting ready to raise back up at top speed.

"Uh, Noelle? Ya might wanna hurry!"

She was about 3/4 of the way up as the mechanisms began to spin. I took hold of the harness around my waist and began to pull back, trying to urge her out of the shaft. The cords began to slowly lurch and get ready to move.

"Noelle!" I screamed out.

At the last possible second, Noelle rolled out onto the floor and the elevator slid by at a high speed that made Noelle's loose brown hair dance in the breeze. She was breathing heavily; the blood dosed the front of her uniform and dried over her lips. In the midst of the terror, I felt the urge to laugh.

"Noelle, you look like you just crawled out of the Walking Dead," I noted in a concerned whisper. She paused for a moment and then let out a laugh.

"I feel like I just crawled out of the Walking Dead." She pushed herself up and started to sway, having to grip onto the wall for support. She looked up at my concerned expression, and held up her hands in weird, scrunched-up positions.

"Graahhhh, I am the section leader of the dead! Play your runs in time or I will eat your brains!" I let off a light laugh and rolled my eyes.

"Okay, I admit, that was lame," she smiles at me. "Let's find a way out of here."

We both looked around at our surroundings; it was a plain, white hallway with two perpendicular corridors on each side. The air in the walkway was cold, and the only audible sound was that of an air conditioner blowing somewhere above our heads. I squinted, trying to see down the hallways at the end of the wall.

"Geez, really? A completely white hallway with LED lights? Blinding me, man..." I grabbed onto the string tied around our midsections and began pulling us both down the hall, careful to make sure Noelle didn't collapse from blood loss. At the end of the hallway stood the only door in sight, just as white as everything else around us.

"Maybe they have a first aid kit or something in here," I wondered aloud, pushing the door open as we reached it.

Inside was something right out of Frankenstein; tesla coils lined the walls, and the one long table was cluttered with tools and chemicals of all shapes, sizes, and colors. The dark lighting was a vast contrast to the hallway outside, momentarily blinding me as we tiptoed in.

As my eyes attempted to adjust to the sudden darkness, I noticed less and less of what things really looked like, merely barely being able to distinguish their fuzzy outlines. Pausing for a moment, I untied the marimba string from my waist, leading Hope to sit on the ground beside the table.

"Stay here," I try to tell her, but for some reason the words never left my mouth. The air… the room was thick… heavy…

Posion… I think… like…

Purple…

~xXx~

**Long story short they both pass out. Huzzah!**

**If you want to leave a review, but you don't know what to say here's a question if you want: **How do you see Noelle responding to the world of DA versus Grace? Or vice versa?

**Cool.**

**Hmmm, okay. If you see a character named Hope in here, let me know. Noelle's name was originally Hope, but I changed it. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**MMMMMMokay, this one was written by me. It was actually written, like, 3098080 years ago, but whatever. Now to see inside Noelle's mind!**

**Noelle**

Lest I completely lose my mind, I should first confirm with myself that, perhaps, an hour ago I was within the labyrinth of the university's science department. I remember distinctly: a short cut, an elevator shaft, a white hallway—Grace had taken me to a room, and then I must have fallen into sleep.

But, in respect of all normality, I should be in a hospital.

I, by all means, am not ungrateful; but _of course_ my dear friend Grace would drop me off at the local Renaissance Faire to receive medical aid. After all, it does make far too much sense to take me any place with actual medical professionals. _No_, let's just solve things the bat-shit crazy way.

_Marimba string is a bad idea my ass._

My body vibrates with an aberrant tingle as I lay completely still; trying to keep my eyes shut and remain in the façade of a dreamless sleep. Earlier one of the nuns had taken the liberty of washing the blood from my face and at sometime removed my uniform, leaving me in my underwear underneath a thin bed sheet—partly contributing to my irritation. They had also been giving me some unsettling liquid. It had a strange spicy cinnamon taste that I was positive was a kind of alcoholic concoction; it would make my body pulse with a strange aura that began in my core, radiated through my limbs and kissed its way into the air through my digits. It was that feeling that first woke me and led me to a disconcerting and rather violent realization of where I was. Though, I swallowed my divergence and devised a plan. I was going to wait until the room sounded completely vacant, search the wardrobe for something to wear, and then just sneak out and decipher where it is I had drifted.

However, in all honesty, this was probably one of the more unusual fairs. The nun I had seen was unlike the usual Catholic ones found in the Middle Ages. She wore orange garb and referred to God as "The Maker" instead. When she had her back turned I observed the room and found that it was surprisingly authentic—as if they actually resided there; a full bookcase, a wardrobe that housed clothes for all seasons, and even a chamber pot hidden in the back corner of the room. Part of me wanted to believe that it was some variation of an Amish village—nonetheless, all of me was in consensus that whatever the case, I had to get out of there.

Too bad that the nun (or sister or shaman or whatever religion she is) seems quite content on supervising my rest. Even when she left she invited another to come into the room and monitor me. So, I have collected up to twenty minutes of lying here, half naked, secretly skulking, with some unnecessarily vibrant sister of some unidentified faith playing nanny over my presumed unconscious form.

"Has she awoken yet?" an elderly woman's voice asks from outside the entrance of the room.

"Afraid not," my fruity captor responds lightly, her voice whispery like she presumed that I was a fragile glass any sound might shatter. "Her wound has healed, so she should wake soon enough."

_Soon enough? Soon enough for what?_ I wonder, trying to keep my breathing steady.

"Lay this by her bed," the elder woman gives the younger something that make a cloth-like swish as it passes between their hands. "Sister Amelia has started on washing the girl's garments, so she may put these on when she stirs."

"Should I change her?" the young lady asks with an innocent air.

My body jolts. _And miraculously she is healed!_

I fake a waking groan and shift slightly under the covers. Before I opened my eyes I heard their feet shuffling towards me in response to my _brilliant_ acting. Slowly I open my eyes to the woman and reveal to them my consciousness. Both of them wore excited (and uncertain) looks on their faces.

"Where am I?" I whisper in my best morning voice.

"You are safe, child," the elderly parson tries to comfort me as she kneels down and tests the warmth of my forehead with the back of her hand. "Eleanor," she directs to the younger woman, "would you go tell them she is awake."

She blinks a nod and dutifully bows out of the room, leaving me with the senior.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" she asks, kneeling down to meet my elevation.

"You probably know more than I," I admit after a moment of deciding this instance wasn't worth a soliloquy. "Can you just point me in the direction of Carolina University? I seem to have lost my band."

"Oh dear," she raises her eyebrows at me; "you must be a long way from home then. The group that brought you here said they found you in a cave, completely anesthetized."

_A cave? Something isn't adding up here…_

"What is your name?" she asks softly, her green eyes offering me the aspiration for understanding.

I hold in my answer; for some reason I felt like telling her my name would upset things. In essence, there is no reason I should not, but the idea of being in such a peculiar instance wasn't sitting well inside of my chest. I begin to wonder, "Do Amish people know American politics?"

"My name is Michelle Obama."

She gives me a warm smile and hands me the clothes. "Well, Messere Obama, these are for you." She halts as I swallow down a reactive laugh and nod my head in thanks.

_That answers that question._

She continues, "We will give you back your garments as soon as they are dried. Are you feeling well?"

"I feel better than I thought I would right after waking up from a head injury." I sit up, securing my chest with the blanket. As I sit up I touch my head and find that the wound is gone. "How long was I asleep?"

"Ever since Aedan brought you here, you have been for out cold for at least five hours."

"Aedan?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.

"The Grey Warden who found you. He and his companions delivered you here. He told us he would like to speak with you when you awoke."

I nod and purse my lips. It's not like I knew what I Grey Warden was… A warden is someone who safe keeps something and... grey is a color that mediates between white and black. So, he is a multiracial policeman?

I really need to work on my analyzing skills.

"I would like to thank him," I confirm pretending I knew what she was talking about, "and you as well. I appreciate what you've done here, but I would have thought it would take longer for my wound to heal. You must have worked a miracle."

She lets out a comfortable laugh. "Oh, only the miracle of health potions, my dear."

"Right," I whisper, turning to slip on the tunic by my bed.

"I will leave you to get changed," she exits with a slight bow.

"Wait."

"Yes, Serrah Obama?"

I bite my lip again. "Call me Noelle…"

~xXx~

I could talk all day long about just how unusual my situation is, but I didn't—by any means—think it could have gotten any worse. It turns out that my humble rescuers found me in my marching band uniform and…

"What army do you hail from?"

He was a tall, bulky man; handsome, but also strongly built with an intense stare, sharp chin, and piercing icy blue eyes. He wore a large metal chest plate with a bronze sword encrusted in its center. A large sword was strapped to his back that added to his looming demeanor.

"Pardon?" I squeak.

"When we found you, you were wearing a uniform whose issue I could not determine. Grand Cleric Anita told me you said you lost your band."

_My band… He thinks I meant…_

"It's not like that…" I stutter under his vigorous gaze. "I'm not a soldier…"

His eyebrows rise. "No? What are you then? A guardswoman?"

I lick my lips. "I am part of a marching band."

He nods confidently. "Ah, yes. This parchment fell from your pocket when we found you. It says you are a 'section leader'?" He hands to me a familiar paper that is crumbled up and half stained with blood. I recognize it immediately as the section leader antennary. A list of times column the side with what used to be directions of where to go, but most of it was lost among the splotches of blood. Though, the most recognizable part is that at the top that reads 'Regional Championship Section Leader Orders and Guidelines'.

"You have my apologies for desecrating your leadership role. Of course you aren't a soldier; how impractical of me." He tilts his head at me with a small gracious nod.

"I, um… it's no problem. I'm really not insulted." My mind is now blown. I am just going to play along. "So, Aedan, you didn't see any other members of my… platoon, did you?"

"There were others? I'm afraid that they were either killed or left you behind. You must have also been looted for your weapons and armor."

Okay, so now I am certain I am dreaming. Grace is still alive. This temple… church…place is an illusion. And Aedan? He isn't multiracial—I'm completely certain. And the 'health potion'..? Oh! I get it! The health potion is actually medication that I am receiving in doses because I am actually laying in a hospital bed. It all makes sense.

"I am on a quest," I talk with the same amount of vigor. "My Lord has sent to the lands to retrieve a girl by the name of Grace Holland. She is a spy who intercepted valuable information that I need tracked down. My last lead was… well, here actually."

Aedan lifts his eyebrows. "What does she look like?"

"For a spy she sticks out quite obviously. She has dyed the ends of her hair bright pink. She should also be dressed in the same uniform that I was in when you found me."

His eyes widen at the prospect of pink hair. "I think I might have remembered seeing someone with pink hair."

I give my robes a dignified straighten and look off in another direction. "Right, well, I suppose then I should keep looking. Thank you for your assistance. If there is any way I can repay you, let me know."

And right as I was about to get away. "Wait."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to leave without any weapons or armor?"

"I, uh…"

He takes a step towards me. "I understand you have come a long way and your wounds show that you've seen a few battles. I will provide the supplies for you so you can continue to intercept your spy, but in return I ask that you and any of your soldiers aid me in my battle against the Blight."

_What?_

"Excuse me for a moment," I stutter, rapidly turning around and exiting the building. I leave him baffled and without a word as I stumble out into what seemed to be a sort of town square. There was a blacksmith; there were more armored men; there was a lake.

There are no lakes near the university.

"Serrah Obama?" He walks out of the building after me.

My eyes were wide, taking in the unfamiliar terrain around me. I was nowhere near the university or normal civilization for that matter. My heart beat rampantly and the world began to slightly spin. I grab my forehead trying to shut it all out and whisper to myself that it's okay. I close my eyes tight and just stand there for a minute.

"Okay, okay," I reassure myself as I look back up. I then found that Aedan was right in front of me, looking, looking suspiciously relieved.

"I'm glad you made that decision."

_What._

~xXx~

**I don't know if you guys like the idea of a review prompt, but it usually helps me out when I review chapters.**

Where do you think Grace is right now? What do you think Noelle's actions in this chapter might have done to effect her?


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